


Sweat, come and honey

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [125]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Dom/sub, Food Kink, M/M, Snowballing, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please…”<br/>It’s just a whisper. Barely audible over the din of gentle but steady rain. The old wood table creaking as Castiel shifts. Blinking wet wide eyes.<br/>“Please-“</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat, come and honey

It's drizzling out, a gentle patter that echoes loudly off the metal roof of the barn. The heat’s thick enough to settle on his skin, dripping wet with sweat already. Shirt sleeves rolled up, suspenders down, his shirt sticks wetly in the middle of his back where the sweat runs down the furrow of his spine.

Cain hums to himself as he works. Straw rustling under foot, between two tables. One laid out with a cloth and instruments. The other laid out with his boy.

Knees stained green from grass and skin flushed red with exertion, Castiel writhes underneath him. Arms folded up under his head and held there by his own will, legs stretched out and jerking up every now and then before Castiel corrects himself. The boy doesn’t really need restraints anymore. They can be enjoyable for their own sake, but Cain prefers when his boy has to hold his own self in restraint.

Everything’s damp. Hair pulled back with a tie, stray wisps plastering to his forehead, Cain leans one hip against the table which Castiel is stretched out on and smiles at him. One hand grasped around the base of his erect cock, swollen hard, flushed deeper blood red than the rest of him, Cain holds him still with one hand. The other works a thick Hegar sound into his urethra.

It’s not as wide as Castiel can manage, but a good warm up. Enough to have him squirming, still biting his lip, biting back all the quiet little beggings and wantings. Cain is patient. 

The boy’s chest heaves and his eyes track every single twitch of movement when Cain shifts. Castiel whines behind his teeth, pouts a little, muscular arms flexing and belly going taut as he shoves his hips up off the worn wood table. Cain holds him steady. Fucks his dick with a rod. Precome seeping pearlescent around the shiny metal slick with lube. Castiel sweats and licks his lips but he holds back his begging. This isn’t for him to ask. This is for Cain to give.

“Good boy.”

With a twist and a another deep fuck to the base of his cock, Cain pulls the sound out slowly. Swivels it around wide at the head stretching the slit. His hand at the base squeezing and stroking up the length, rough pad of a thumb tracing over the frenulum. With a hum, he sets the rod aside on his tool table. Pats Castiel’s hip with a hand. Squeezes a little more lube onto a forefinger. The one on his right hand that he carefully trimmed and filed down the nail.

Castiel curls closer to him on the table. Stays mostly on his back, lifting one hip up and trying to oh so subtly scoot closer. Cain sees it. Maybe he’s gone a bit soft for the boy, but he allows it. Splays a hand over Castiel’s hip and slides up, scratching over the barest hint of ribs, down to the cut of his hipbone and holding. Lightly ghosting down to grasp the base of his cock again. Forefinger at the slit all slicked up and insistently nudging where he’s been stretched on a modest Hegar.

“Please…”

It’s just a whisper. Barely audible over the din of gentle but steady rain. The old wood table creaking as Castiel shifts. Blinking wet wide eyes.

“Please-“

There’s resistance at the head, and Cain would be lying to say he hasn’t thought of proposing at least a partial meatatomy to his boy, but with steady firm pressure he gets the angle right and slides his thick finger deeper into Castiel’s urethra. It’s better than a sound by far. To feel it. Feel the warmth inside him and the pulse of his blood as Castiel’s arousal surges and his cock twitches. Seizes around Cain’s finger.

Curling his finger, scraping along the tender inside of the channel, Cain presses deep and pulls back slowly. The groan that scrapes out of Castiel’s throat is inhuman. Stuttering gasps and breathy, the boy raises his elbows off the table while he keeps his hands clasped behind his head, losing form, losing himself, hips rising up to meet Cain, knees starting to draw up.

The sharp slap to his soft belly echoes loud in the barn.

“I have a treat for you, boy, if you can behave.”

Skin prickling with the sweat rolling down his neck, finger to the webbing inside his boy, hand spread hot over his belly warm from the hit, Cain watches.

Castiel stills. Slowly relaxes and lowers himself point by point back onto the table. Hips down, back flat, legs stretched, elbows to the table. Eyes up to the ceiling. Deep breath in.

“There you go.”

Sliding his hand across Castiel’s belly, up over his broad chest, resting at the curve of his throat with a light squeeze, Cain shallow fucks with little aborted movements, curving his finger around inside Castiel’s dick. Hand over his throat, one good squeeze, blunt nails track red lines down his chest and stomach, hold the base of his cock steady again.

Cain likes to take his time. They don’t have anything else to be up to on an overcast day like this. Castiel helped tend the gardens yesterday, they’ll have to wait for better weather to paint the shutters. There are a few woodwork projects he could be getting up to. But his time with his boy is limited.

There’s something curiously more intimate about fucking his boy’s cock than there ever is about the many ways he violates Castiel’s ass.

Cain is nowhere near finished.

Castiel keeps himself together as Cain moves faster, curled over him, finger withdrawing to the tip and teasing before sinking in again. As they progress with larger gauging, there’s a softening to Castiel’s cock. Half-hard. Still fully interested. Stretched wide. Better uses for it anyway, the boy doesn’t need to be erect. He’s made to be used.

Sliding his finger out, shushing the weak groan that Castiel gives as his head lolls over and he watches, Cain finds his narrow speculum. There’s a full body shudder from the boy then, eyes wide, body alert and curious now. Slicking it, Cain wastes no time inserting into and opening Castiel’s urethra. It’s tender pink inside, sweet as his ass. Precome pushing out glistening on the steel of the speculum.

There’s a jar already open on the table, hidden a little back behind other things. Not necessarily a surprise, but a treat. The waxy comb is left inside with the thick amber honey. A small silver teaspoon dipped into it. Castiel whines high and steady when he sees Cain set it on the table by his hip. Cock filling again, hardening around the speculum pushing it up, squeezing around it. A hand kept busy holding the tool there to keep his boy open, Cain is messy with the other hand and a spoon of honey.

Dripping thick and sticky over the line of a tan hip, matting in coarse hair, Cain only trickles about half of it into the dark wet channel of Castiel’s urethra. Sliding down metal and flesh, translucent as it thins, Cain taps the spoon at the tip of Castiel’s dick, rewarded with a cry.

Bringing the spoon to his mouth, sweet with sticky honey, Cain holds it on his tongue to free his hand. Wrap around his boy’s cock, firm squeeze and he feels the edges of the tool inside, jacks around it and trails down lower to cup Castiel’s sac. Strong thighs tighten closed, belly quivering, Castiel is the picture of obedience and desperation.

Twist a tug, more of a cry of pain at that, Cain lets go and takes the spoon again, dips for another dab of honey. The mess will get everywhere whether he tries or not, only a trickle finding it’s way into the stretched space of his boy’s cock. There’s a rhythm of panting wet breath through the pattering of rain, needling whine growing more prominent, mouth gone slack.

Setting the spoon back in it’s jar and pulling the speculum out, metal dragging stuck to tender skin, Cain sets that aside. Circles his hand around Castiel’s cock and pinches the head, tugs. Feet still planted, hands still behind his head, Castiel can only beg with his eyes and needy whines like an animal. Like a good boy.

Lowering his head, moving a hand to brace on the table beside Castiel’s hip, Cain licks around the head wet with sweat, come and honey. Castiel nearly cries. Wrapping his lips around it, just the first inch, Cain savors it on his tongue heavy and sweet. Loosening his grip to slide his hand down to pull a thigh wide and trail his fingers between Castiel’s legs, Cain sinks down as he does.

Sucks. Hard and filthy. Tongues the honey out of his loose fucked open cock. Barely has his lips around his boy when there’s semen rushing wet into his mouth. Bitter salty contrast to the sweet, pushing honey out with it, rushing pulses in time with erratic heartbeat as Castiel bows off the table and groans hoarsely broken.

Straightening, mess dripping into his beard, Cain moves up the table. Grabs his boy’s chin, thumb barely pressing on the swell of lower lip and Castiel is parting for him so easy. Open and waiting. Hot breath across his cheek. Cain feeds his own honey diluted release back to him. Tongue flat, head tipped back, Castiel swallows and pants and waits until Cain tongues after it, sloppy, teeth pulling at Castiel’s lip.

The rain’s died out by now, faint rumble of the easy storm moving on grumbling distantly, air lingering with hazy heat. Cain could put his boy to work with the surplus vegetables he needs to make time to can. Or they could enjoy the cooling air on the porch with a book.

Cain might be softening like worked over beeswax, but heated honey drips so easy.


End file.
